


Ice Escapades

by serenyty



Category: Pushing Daisies
Genre: Because there's a body, Case Fic, F/M, Gen, Holidays, Mild Gore, Winter, ice is a metaphor y'all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 11:19:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13052961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenyty/pseuds/serenyty
Summary: Ned, Chuck, Emerson, and Olive investigate a murder at an ice carving contest.





	Ice Escapades

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OhWilloTheWisp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhWilloTheWisp/gifts).



> For Yuletide 2017 to OhWilloTheWisp - hope you enjoy! 
> 
> The timeline of this is pretty nonexistent - it's before the finale but that's pretty irrelevant. Some liberties were taken (i.e. Olive running around with everyone regardless of the Pie Hole) but hopefully were made to better your enjoyment.

Ned knew by the look on Emerson Cod's face that, much like most of the cases they took together, that this one was peculiar. From the furrow of his brow, to the pace of his walk, to him immediately waving Olive over to order a slice of the cranberry crumble pie (making sure to ask for double, no triple the normal amount of whipped cream), Ned knew that Emerson was perturbed.

"You look perturbed," Ned told Emerson as he sat across from him at the usual Pie Hole booth.

"Disturbed maybe, not sure about perturbed." Emerson mumbled.

"Is there a difference? I'm pretty sure that if you're disturbed you are at the very least disturbed," Chuck said as she slid into the booth next to Emerson. Chuck smiled at Ned, and Ned smiled back, heart warmed by her presence. Emerson groaned.

"If there is a difference it doesn't matter, my mental state doesn't change the fact there's a dead body in the morgue with my name on it."

"Literally or figuratively?" Ned asked, smiling a bit to himself at the exhasperated look on Emerson's face and the grin on Chuck's.

"Figuratively," Emerson replied, more deadpan than an autopsy table.

"So what's got you so perturbed and/or disturbed about this dead body?" Ned asked.

"Well, for the first thing, we have no murder weapon."

"You mean that the killer still has it?" Ned asked.

"No, I mean that the murder weapon melted."

The facts were these. At 52 hours, 45 minutes and 32 seconds before the start of Papen County's Nice Ice Ice Knife Ice Carving contest, Corey Frost was found dead in his deluxe ice carving tent 3 rows of tents away from the Nice Ice Ice Festival mainstage. His intern, Roderick Davenport, found him dead slumped against his block of ice, the cooling warmth of his freshly dead corpse creating the most unusual ice sculpture.

"It looked like," Emerson said, "Corey Frost was killed by a knife made of ice."

"A perfect crime, so they say," Chuck commented. "With a weapon made of ice the weapon melts, leaving no evidence."

"They say a lot of things, but this was no perfect crime - the ice didn't melt," Emerson said. "Roderick Davenport found him with the ice sticking out of him, which was sticking to his block of ice, which isn't confusing at all."

"At least there were fingerprints..." Ned trailed off at the look on Emerson's face falling.

"Do you think people carry around ice with their bare hands? Of course there weren't any fingerprints!"

Ned raised his hands, not wanting to press the questions further. "Any leads?"

"Corey was the star of the ice carving contest," Emerson said, throwing a pamphlet on the table, pointing at the photo of Corey winning the grand prize at last year's contest, trophy held high above his head. "He was more serious about this contest than most people are about anything. That gets you enemies."

"Ooh, the Ice Carving contest, I've always wanted to see it," Olive Snook said as she placed the cranberry crumble pie in front of Emerson. "Are you guys going?"

"It's for a case," Emerson said.

"That doesn't mean I can't come!" Olive replied, waving the arm with the bowl of Emerson's extra whipped cream animatedly. "I can just stay out of the way and see the sights."

Ned and Emerson looked at each other, both unable to fully explain to Olive the situation without indicating that Ned touched things and brought them back to life.

"How about I go ahead with Olive," Chuck said, breaking the tension, "and we can look around and see if we see anything. You can meet us there."

Emerson and Ned both agreed, seeing no other alternative.

Ned and Emerson made their way into the morgue. With little fanfare the coroner waved them inside - his acceptance was a bit disconcerting, considering they knew anyone else finding out about Ned would be unfortunate at the least.

Ned removed the sheet from the dead body and looked down. The man's mouth was pushed to the side, the mouth stiff in the position as it was pressed against the ice. The rest of the body looked fairly normal, aside from the large wound in his chest. The ice had long since melted, some of which remained in a small puddle on Corey's chest. Ned looked over at Emerson for a brief moment before touching Corey Frost's arm.

Corey Frost woke with a start, with Ned suppressing the urge to press down or restrain him in any way.

"Hello?" Corey asked, with a muffled sound. He tried to move his mouth more, to mumble less, but his mouth was firmly stuck. "What happened?"

"Well, you're dead," Ned mentioned, getting the basics out of the way.

"Aw shit!"

"Yeah, sorry about that."

"Is that why I'm so cold?" Corey asked.

"The fact you're naked and covered in water has more to do with that," Corey looked down "But I thought you'd be used to the cold by now, what with your ice sculptures."

"You never get used to the cold," Corey replied with a shiver, "you only tolerate it at most. But that's a good thing - the second you're warm it's too late for your sculpture."

Emerson coughed, pointing markedly at his empty wrist.

"Do you know who killed you? Or anyone you know would want to kill you?" 15 seconds left.

"No, not really - there aren't many enemies in the world of ice sculpture. It's all about the love of the art." 8 seconds.

"No jealousies, nobody want the prize you were going to win?"

"Well, there was one-" and Ned touched Corey.

"Well that's just great," Emerson muttered.

Olive pulled Chuck through the sea of tents, peaking her head in any of them.

"What are you looking for?" Chuck asked.

"Either a clue for Emerson and Ned or an interesting ice sculpture, I'll take either at this point," Olive replied, openly looking into each of the tents they passed.

Chuck peered down the rows and rows of tents. While the sculptures were shown and evaluated on the mainstage, they were all prepared within the individual tents assigned to each sculptor. The area seemed to be eerliy quiet, with most sculptors seemingly taking the day off due to the trauma of the previous evening's experience.

Olive looked disappointed while they kept snooping through the tents, seeing nothing but large blocks of ice. They saw the tent marked as the scene of the crime, but instead peaked inside the tent next to it. Inside this tent they found a large ice sculpture, a scene from the end of a battle featuring two swordsmen. On the left, a swordsman on his knees, begging for mercy. On the right, the swordsman lifting his sword to dispatch with his foe. Only -

"There's no sword," Chuck said, "the blade is missing."

"Well that's weird," Olive replied, "where would it be?" Suddenly, the two heard rustling outside of the tent. Olive gave a small shout, looking for a place to hide from their snooping, when Ned and Emerson walked in. "Oh, it's just you guys."

"What are you doing in here?" Ned asked. Chuck pointed to the sculpture.

Emerson scoffed. "Yeah that's sure a perfect crime."

"Who are you and why are you in my tent?" the group heard from a voice at the entrance to the tent. Everyone jumped before they saw him. He was a tall man in a large puffy coat and wearing thin waterproof gloves.

"I'm Emerson Cod, private investigator. And you are?"

"Melvin Wilmot, this is my tent."

Emerson stared at him blankly, then pointed at the sculpture. "That yours too?"

Melvin nodded, looking between everyone in the tent.

"Looks like an.. unusual subject for an ice sculpture," Emerson continued.

"Ice Sculpture is an underappreciated medium," Melvin said, "There's more to it than centerpieces and swans. Its true potential still has to be carved out, as it were."

Emerson made a move towards the sculpture and Melvin flinched. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't touch my sculpture, at least not with those gloves."

"What's wrong with my gloves?" Emerson asked, a bit insulted.

"There is a high possibility that fuzz or fiber could transfer onto the ice." Melvin showed his own hands. "These are the only gloves that are suitable for ice carving."

"What happened to the sword," Ned blurted out. Everyone looked to him. "The sword on your sculpture."

Melvin sighed. "I have no idea - it was like this when I got here this morning. Truth be told, I was always concerned about it - having ice that thin is always asking for trouble."

"Then you didn't break it off yourself to kill Corey Frost?" Emerson asked.

Melvin's eyes widened. "Kill Corey Frost? Why on Earth would I do that?"

"Because he always won," Olive added, "and I know that would get my goat, to see someone like that win year after year." She pulled out the festival pamphlet and pointed to Corey. "And I might want to make sure his goat was got."

"Corey was a bit of a showboat, sure, but his work brought people from all over the county to appreciate ice sculpture - his work was an inspiration to many. Why would I want to do that and ruin my sculpture in the process?" He sniffed. "Besides, there's no way that sword could have killed him."

"How come?" Chuck asked.

"It's too brittle. For ice to be thin enough to cut someone it would have to be so thin that it would break upon impact."

"So the ice wasn't the weapon at all," Ned murmured.

"Assuming he's telling the truth," Emerson muttered back.

A call from the coroner assured Emerson that Melvin was in fact telling the truth. Upon further examination it appeared that the wound in Corey Frost's chest was mostly superficial and caused by a regular knife, not the ice. It all remained to be seen but it looked like the stabbing was not the cause of death.

"This is looking less like a perfect crime by the minute," Chuck remarked as she walked hand in glove and hand in glove with Ned, careful to keep a healthy distance between them as they made their way back to the car. They both wore a pair of long rubber gloves underneath a long pair of lined faux leather gloves, so the risk of skin to skin contact was low, but they made sure to be as careful as can be. 

"And looking more like a setup." Ned replied. "Whoever killed Frost wanted to make sure that we all thought it would be Melvin."

Chuck hummed. "Any other leads to poke around with yet?"

"Not yet," Ned replied, "looks like we'll be heading back here tomorrow. Everyone should be showing up to do their sculptures before the judging and results."

"The show must go on," Chuck shrugged.

They walked in silence for a few more moments before Chuck mentioned "I hope we can see more of the ice sculptures - they are really something special. "

"Melvin's display was a bit... grotesque," Ned replied.

"That's why I want to see more of them!" Chuck said with as much animation as she could, given their proximity. "There's something lovely about something with so much beauty being gone at any time. One day it's there, the next day it's a puddle on the ground."

Ned didn't like the sound of that but he nodded in ascent - he would do it if it would make Chuck happy.

The next day Ned, Chuck, Olive and Emerson made their way back to the festival grounds only to find the area filled to the brim with ice carving teams and assistants all running around in organized  chaos as a large clock nearby ticked down until the deadline. Emerson mumbled about the lack of a suspect, not happy to be spending another day out in the cold. They walked through the tents, narrowly avoiding people and ice sculptures. As they came near Corey Frost's former tent, the group started to hear shouting from inside the tent.  
  
"I don't see why you can't make an exception," a loud male voice shouted. "I was his assistant!"  
  
"You were an intern, and not part of the registered team - that was Mr. Frost himself. Since you weren't registered before our registration deadline, this is out of our hands." A female voice responded, clear irritation in her voice.  
  
"But what about Corey's legacy? Does that mean nothing to you?"   
  
"Mr..." the female voice paused. "Davenport. I understand your concern, believe me. Mr. Frost's legacy was an important institution. But, frankly, Mr. Frost is dead, and reminding the public of that fact is not in anyone's best interests. We need to move on. Maybe that should have happened earlier."  
  
Emerson's eyebrows rose. Maybe they had a suspect after all. After a few moments a woman left the tent looking annoyed, looking down at a large clipboard from behind large round glasses. She walked quickly, with a purpose, so it took Emerson a few shouts and tries before she slowed down and looked at the group.

"Can I help you?" she asked, clearly wishing that she didn't have to help them.   
  
"Were you just in Corey Frost's tent?" Emerson asked, his voice far cheerier than it was on a normal day.  
  
She sighed. "What do you want? Another disgruntled assistant?"  
  
"He's certainly disgruntled but no assistant," Olive piped in. 

"If anyone's the assistant it's you, so pipe down." Emerson muttered. He returned to his cheerier voice. "We're just well-wishers wondering what happened to him."  
  
The woman peered at him. "You're a private investigator, aren't you." She sighed. "Well, the sooner we can get this mess behind us the better. I'm Evelyn Bing, executive chair of the ice carving competitions here." 

"You sure want to move past Corey Frost's death very quickly."  
  
"Don't get me wrong, I miss Corey," Evelyn said with an unexpected warmth that shocked the group. "He was a complicated guy but a good friend." Then she reverted back to her previous serious mode. "But, we've got dozens of people here ready to present their work and many, many more looking to see the show. Now's not the time to get sentimental." Though she said, this, her facade drooped for a moment. 

"He's a good friend but you said you should have moved on earlier?" Ned asked, eliciting a strong look from Emerson.  
  
"You heard that?" Evelyn asked. She sighed. "Look, I had nothing to do with it. You can look into me but just so you know I was at a donor event all night. Corey was a good friend, but his success was almost a given. It's not exciting to have the same guy win every time, it discourages newcomers. I was hoping that this could be Corey's last year with someone new taking his slot in the competition, and with him moving on to be a judge. He could still carve something, just not be open to the prize. Corey disagreed, but he was already grandfathered into this year."  
  
"Who else knew about this?" Ned asked, suspicion increasing.

"Just Corey and his intern, who facilitates the meetings." Evelyn replied.   
  
Emerson pointed. "The intern that you were talking to in the tent back there?"   
  
"That's right."  
  
"The intern that's getting away?" Olive asked. All looked to see Corey Frost's disgruntled intern running away at top speed. Emerson groaned.

Ned eventually caught up with Mr. Roderick Davenport, the intern, and walked him back to the group. "You know running only makes you look guiltier, right?" Olive said. "It's not exactly a good look."  
  
Roderick shrugged. "It was worth a shot."  
  
"So you did it?" Emerson asked. 

Roderick sighed. "Look, I didn't mean too." He slumped down but his shoulders lifted, as if the weight of his secret was gone. "I didn't want him to die, not at all. I just wanted him to need my help - if he was a little weaker, and needed me to help with the sculpture..."  
  
"Then he'd recommend you to fill his space in the competition." Chuck finished. Roderick nodded.

Roderick Davenport had been poisoning Corey Frost for the past two months, slowly upping the dose the closer it got to the ice carving competition. The poison had not worked as planned when Roderick found Corey slumped over in his tent, lying on the ice. In a panic, he looked for a way out and found it in Melvin Wilmot's sculpture. 

The next day, Ned found himself walking with Chuck, looking through the completed sculptures. Despite the missing sword (or because of it - it was determined to be thematically appropriate), Melvin Wilmot won first prize, dedicating it to Corey Frost. As they walked in silence, Ned rehearsed what he meant to say once, twice, before blurting out "I'm sorry I was so weird earlier." Chuck looked at him; he continued. "I guess I just don't want all good things to be fleeting. You're here, you're good, and I hope you're not fleeting."  
  
"I was just referring to the ice sculptures when I said that," Chuck replied, looking around before facing Ned. "But yes, all things must come to an end. There's something beautiful and sad about that. But it's not about the ending - it's about enjoying the time we have." She interlaced her gloved finger's with Ned's. "I don't know if I really appreciated that until I died. You gave me my second chance, and I'm determined to enjoy every second." She looked up at him. "And enjoying every second more than involves you."  
  
Ned had never wanted to kiss Chuck more than in that moment. But instead, he gave her a smile that warmed her heart despite the bitter cold outside, and they walked hand in hand through the ice sculptures, together. 


End file.
